


End Of The Roads

by masterlynovak



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 9000-ish words of bullshit, ??? like wtf, A Lot of Death, Death, F/M, Soulless Sam Winchester, Zombie Apocalypse, not many zombies, spndystopiabang, that's what this is, the plot is very messy, what wasI thinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 07:13:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11179698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterlynovak/pseuds/masterlynovak
Summary: Jo hears her own voice in the middle of the pouring and gushing of blood. Two simple words that drowns out all the other noises for a mere couple of seconds.“I’m sorry."





	End Of The Roads

The end of the world didn’t end the way they thought it would. It didn’t end in flames or in a strong, biblical light.

 No. Instead of that, a brother threw himself and Lucifer into the depths of Hell and the undead came back to life.

 It was the end of the world when Jo Harvelle appeared outside a diner in South Dakota and turned down sex with the only man she’d ever loved.

 

**————**

 

 One second she was in pigtails, being lifted up by her father as he came home from his most recent hunt.

 The other second, she was standing outside a 50’s themed diner called  _ The Roadhouse _ . The name made her heart weep in nostalgia, since it reminded her of the roadhouse bar she’d grown up in. 

Jo took two deep breaths before walking in. It was clearly a hunters gathering place  —yet another reason for the numbing sadness inside her— and all the booths were occupied by leather-clad people conversing in loud voices.

She walks up to the counter which used to have chairs once upon a time, but had been removed since.

Jo takes in the place. It smells like too strong coffee and gun oil and it feels like home. The entire diner has a half-assed feeling around it. Elvis Presley is playing from an abandoned jukebox in a corner, but the dirty interior doesn’t give out the same mood. The effort is nice, at least.

A lady with a name tag that reads Martha hands Jo a cup of steaming, dark black coffee.

 “On the house”, Martha says.

 Jo raises her cup in a ‘cheers’ motion as a thanks.

 She has barely taken two sips from the coffee —and burned her tongue and lips in the process— before she hears the doorbell ring and the sounds of six feet are sounded over the conversations in the diner. 

 Jo doesn’t give it a second thought, until she hears a low whistle. She seizes her cup so hard she’s almost afraid that it’ll break.

 “Hello my friend”, a familiar male voice sing-songs and Jo’s heart stops.

_ It can’t possibly be _ , says her brain.

_ It has to be! _ sings her heart.

 She takes two deep breaths to get her normal heart rate back before turning around to meet him with an icy smile on her face and crossed arms.

 Just to have her heart stop again. Because it really is him. His forest green eyes open up in surprise and his freckled face is wrinkled in confusion. His cheekbones are like chiseled out from marble and his lips look just as soft as she remembered them.

 “Dean Winchester”, Jo says, her voice loud and clear. “If you still think I want to have sex with you, you haven’t changed at all.”

 The look on his face is priceless.

 “No way”, he mumbles, still shocked. Instead of replying, Jo raises her eyebrows and opens up her arms.

 The next thing she knows, two strong arms are wrapped around her waist and she’s pulled close to Dean’s body. She breathes in his musk and smiles contently.

 When he pulls away, Dean is smiling like a child on Christmas morning. His hands linger on her waist. She doesn’t really mind.

 “You’re back”, he says happily.

 “I’m back”, Jo confirms, petting his bicep as she reluctantly releases herself entirely from his grip. 

 “But how?” another familiar voice says. She looks to her left and sees Castiel take a step forward. His hair is just the same as it was before and he’s wearing his custom trench coat. Next to him a small, brown haired girl in a leather jacket is standing, as if she’s glued to him. Jo would recognize that face anywhere

 “Castiel”, she smiles fondly. “It’s good to see you again.”

 She then turns to the other girl, a grim look on her face. The brunette mimics it.

 “Meg”, the other girl says, not attempting to greet Jo in any way. “We’ve met before, I believe.”

 “We have, haven’t we?” Jo says coldly, crossing her arms once again. “Thanks for last time.”

 Dean and Cas both cough awkwardly.

 Meg takes a step closer to Jo, sizing her up. “But how are you back?” she asks, frowning. “You’re not one of  _ them _ , or…?”

 At the mention of  _ them _ , everyone in the diner stop their conversations and reach slowly for their weapons.

 It’s silent for a long ten seconds before Castiel decides to speak up.

 “No”, he tells them, shaking his head. “Her soul is alive, vivid.”

 A few relieved sighs are heard across the diner and Dean looks like an anvil has been lifted off his chest. Jo doesn’t take time to notice this, for her mind is somewhere else.

 “Why did everyone reach for their weapons when you mentioned  _ them _ ?” Jo asks. She turns to Cas for him to answer.

 Instead of letting the trench coated angel respond, Meg spoke up.

 “The undead have come back to life”, she explains, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. “Hunters all around the world are teaching as many people as possible on how to defeat them, but… Imagine that every person who’s ever died and has a reasonably intact body has come back to life. It will take some time to kill them all.”

 Jo stares at them blankly for a long, five seconds before throwing herself into a laughing fit.   
 A few conversations stop, just so that the hunters can throw weird looks at the group standing at the counter.

 “I… I don’t get the humor in the situation?” Cas says, looking at Meg for an explanation.

 “It’s... “ Jo wheezes. She can’t really finish the sentence because of how hilariously cliché that is. She straightens her back, squares her shoulders and takes two deep breaths to calm herself down and looks at the three people —or… species— in front of her with a dead serious face.

 “So”, she clears her throat, in an attempt to stop herself from laughing once again. “You mean that an  _ actual _ zombie apocalypse is happening.”

 “Zombie apocalypse, rise of the undead, the end of the world”, Dean shrugs. “Call it whatever you like. It is what it is.”

 “So, what?” Jo asks, raising an eyebrow. ”You three drive across America and behead zombies? A human, an angel and a bitch. What a lovely trio.”

 Cas places a protective hand on Meg’s shoulder and frowns when Jo calls her a bitch.

 The female hunter shoots them a questioning look, but doesn’t ask about it. Instead, she turns to Dean.

 “Speaking of lovely trios”, she starts. “Where is Sam?”

 Dean looks away and Jo can feel him shrinking in sorrow. “He’s not here”, he says mournfully, his voice weak.

 “Hell”, Meg corrects him. “Sam’s in hell.”

 “The what now?” Jo asks, clearly confused. “What did he do to get there?”

 “It’s complicated…” Castiel says, trying to avoid the subject. “I don’t know if I can explain it.”

 “I want you to.” Jo eyes the small company, looking at each and every one of them closely. They all look extremely agonized on the thoughts of Sam.

 Cas sighs and looks at his friends. Meg nods reassuringly. Dean is still looking away, hiding his face.

 “Sam said yes to Lucifer”, Castiel started slowly. “Just as Lucifer was about to win against us, Sam somehow took control over him and opened an entrance to The Cage. He… He was lost in the process.”

 Jo swallows back her tears, a sharp sadness for the parted Winchester —one that was like a brother to her— in her heart. Sure, they’d had some ups and downs but he was still like family. She gets even sadder when she sees Dean’s devastated face.

 Jo wants to hug him again, but doesn’t know how to. Can’t really find it in herself to do it. Her type of mourning is usually alone.

 A small hand reaches to Dean’s back and rubs it softly.

 “Hey, it’s okay”, Meg says, smiling sadly. “We’ll find a way to get the sasquatch back.”

 Dean returns the smile to Meg, before squaring his shoulders and wiping away the tears that were yet to come.

 The interaction is so soft and sweet it takes Jo by surprise. She didn’t expect Meg to be a sentimental — _ caring _ — demon, but then again; a lot had changed since the end of the world had started.

 It was very clear that the entire group was shaken by Sam’s disappearance.

 “Onto a lighter subject”, Castiel mumbles, fiddling with the buttons on his trench coat. “We came here for a reason.”

 Both Dean and Meg nod.

 The alive Winchester walks up to Martha behind the counter and asks her something in a low voice. Martha nods, but frowns, and points reluctantly to the back of the diner.

 Dean nods to the group as if to say ‘follow me’.

 Castiel follows the command, making his way after Dean. Meg stalls, looking at Jo. For the first time since the interaction began, Meg and Cas are separated.

 When Jo doesn’t make an attempt to follow the men, Meg groans.

 “Are you coming or not?” she asks.

 “Who? Me?” Jo says. She’s not sure if Meg is fooling her, so she stays on the safe side of not being tricked into thinking she was one of them now.

 “No, your mom”, Meg says, rolling her eyes. The comment is supposedly childish and playful, but Jo can’t help being a little hurt by it, remembering how her mother held her in her last dying breath. Or… What was her last dying breath.

 Once again they stand in silence for a few seconds before Meg stomps her foot into the ground.

 “I swear to Satan”, she sighs. “You humans are hopeless.” Jo makes a face that kind of resembles fake shock. “Just like  _ your _ sense of fashion.”

 Jo coughs. “I don’t need styling advice from the bitch who killed me.”

 “Who said I was giving any?” Meg smiles teasingly, before turning around and following the path to the back of the diner, which Dean and Cas had taken just a couple of minutes earlier.

 Grinning like an idiot, Jo follows her.

 

**————**

 

The back room of the diner is dim lit, no light in the room except for the thin strip of artificial light from the diner.

 In the middle of the room a boy no older than 20 is sitting with an old lady behind him, her hand protectively lying on his shoulder.

 Instead of eyes he had two black hole, as if he’d seen an angel in it’s true form.

 He was not what Castiel had expected when he heard that a prophet of the lord was still alive.

 Whereas Cas had imagined him to be someone with nothing to lose, maybe an elderly man —one that certainly didn’t need his mother around— but the prophet before him was merely an adult.

 “Angel”, The Prophet says a few seconds after Cas has entered the room.

 “How did you know he was an angel?” Dean asks, not bothering to hide his surprise. The Prophet ignores him.

 “Angel, why is your soul tainted?” The prophet asks.

 Castiel stumbles after words, not understanding how The Prophet can see something like that Castiel can’t feel.

 He’s about to start talking, asking questions, when Meg walks in, the heels of her combat boots clickity clacking against the stone floor. Jo is directly behind her.

 “ _ Oh _ ”, The Prophet says as Meg takes her place next to Cas, their arms pressed tightly together. “I see. And your soul has light in it.” The last part is directed to Meg.

 “What?” Meg asks, turning to Cas for an explanation, who finally gets it. “What’s going on?”

 “He sees souls instead of people”, Cas says, nodding towards The Prophet. “I guess since he’s a prophet he can see even small details about them. When I came in… he noticed that I had black spots on my soul and yours was infested with light.” He takes a pause, a red blush flushing his ears and his neck. “Because we’re… Romantically involved.”

 Meg chuckles, raising an eyebrow.

 “So you mean that by having sex with me, I’ve tainted your pure, angel soul with sin?” she asks, almost sounding amused.

 The Prophet clears his throat. “Yes, actually…”

 “Hm…” Meg says, standing on her tiptoes to kiss Cas. “That sounds kinda sexy, doesn’t it?” Cas smiles and they kiss again.

 “Who even is this kid?” Jo suddenly says, who’s been standing by idly and not saying a word. The three companions look at her as if she’d been dead to humanity for a year.

 “He’s The Prophet”, Dean tell her in a hushed voice. “He supposedly knows everything that has happened, that is happening and will happen. He knows the outcome of every choice and situation. He’s also the only one who can read the demon and angel tablet.”

 Jo frowns, wrinkling her forehead and brows in the most adorable way. “How can he read if he’s blind?”

 The Prophet turns around, his long coat swaying against the floor loudly.

 “How can I see souls if I’m neither angel nor demon?” he asks. “How can I know every possible outcome out of everything?” He looks at Jo intently as if he wants her to answer his question. She shrugs and he reflects the motion. “I just sorta do.”

 “It’s God's will”, the lady corrects him. When Cas hears her, takes a step back in shock; he’d forgotten that she was there.

 “Oh shut up about that ‘it’s God’s will’ crap, mom!” The Prophet says angrily, throwing his arms in the air. “You know as well as I do that God gave up on us long time ago!”

 The comment struck Cas in his chest; a feeling he wasn’t really familiar with. He knew his Father didn’t care for his creations anymore, but having a kid spit it at him  _ hurt _ .’

 “Kevin…” The Prophet’s mother started slowly, only to be cut off by her son.

 “Mom”, he said sharply, taking a hissing breath. “Do you have the title  _ The Prophet of the Lord _ ? Do you know every outcome of every situation? Do you have to burden yourself with the knowledge of the death of everyone you love, including your own?”

 The elderly lady looked like she was in shock mode. She stared at her son, but made no attempt to say anything. The Prophet —or should they call him Kevin?— scoffed.

 “No?” he asked. “Yeah, I thought so.”

 The entire room fell silent and the chatter from outside felt louder than it actually was. No one dared say a word, no one dared anger Kevin The Prophet even more.

 Dean was the first to make any attempt at speaking, by clearing his throat. The entire room's attention turns to Dean.

 “We’re not here to tell us things we already know”, he points out, his voice weak. He coughs once and it’s back to its normal strength.

 “Yes, yes, I know”, The Prophet says, waving his hand. “‘How can we save Sam?’. You haven’t changed, Winchester. Not one bit. Still so dependant on your little brother.”

 Dean growls at him, a protective growl that would send a hundred monsters running. A growl that warns about all the terrible things he’d do if you spoke poorly about his little brother once more. Kevin doesn’t seem bothered by it, hopefully because he can’t see the murderous stare Dean is wearing.

 “Would the world really go under if you weren’t with him?” the young boy continued, shrugging his shoulders.

 “Hah!” Dean laughed coldly. “Sorry to break it to you,  _ Kevin _ , but my brother throwing himself down the pit —separating himself from me— resulted into the undead rising and what  _ most _ people call the end of the world.”

 Kevin stared at him —as much as a blind person could stare— before letting out a harsh bark that could be mistaken as a laugh.

 “Dean, Dean, Dean”, he sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You don’t even realize how dependent you are on him, do you? Too blinded with love to your brother to even ask the real interesting questions.”

 The Prophet walks up to Jo, flailing after her shoulder. She grips his —way too smooth, way too young— hand and places it on the clothed shoulder closest to him.

 “For example, how come this lovely lady is back?” he asks, patting her shoulder twice. “‘Course, with the life you lead you’d rather not know. Or you think you already know.”

The room is silent for a long while, an eerie feeling setting over the newfound friends. Jo wants to start asking questions, wants to know why and how, she’s back; wants to figure out every single detail of why she’s back and not her mom. Maybe, if she would have the courage, she’d ask Kevin where her mom was. But she was afraid of what might be the truth. Afraid of the fact that her mom might be one of  _ them _ .

 Kevin is the one to break the silence, clapping his hands together and sighing.

 “No one?” he asks, half joking half not. “Alright, then. I guess we’ll decide on how to get Sam back.”

 “Finally”, Dean mumbles under his breath while rolling his eyes. Cas and Meg start shuffling stiffly and Cas starts looking around the room, as if to focus on anything but The Prophet. He finds a spider in a corner of a bookshelf and locks his eyes onto it.

 Jo knows —knows that they know— that the message The Prophet will come bearing will not be in favour of Dean. She can see it in the way the young man's face is wrinkled, she could see it in the way his hands were fumbling with each other and how his breath became heavier. She knew he was about to lie. She also knew that Cas and Meg probably knew what was coming as well.

 “It’ll be a hard fight”, The Prophet starts slowly. “Sacrifices will be made. Maybe they’ll be too big for any of you.”

 Dean clears his throat. “I’ve already given my life to Sam once and I wouldn’t hesitate…”

 He gets cut off by Kevin, who’s chuckling at the statement.

 “It’s not your  _ life _ , Dean. It’s your—”

 “Soul”, Cas says quickly. “It’s a soul. He means we’ll have to give up a soul. Not in a demon deal sort of way but as in… Being soulless on Earth.” He glances quickly on Jo, before looking back at The Prophet. “Someone has to give up their soul —most people without souls become murderers— and then… It’s up to the rest of what they want to do with the soulless person.”

 The eerie silence settles through the group of people once more. Were they all really ready to become a soulless monster to bring Sam back? Was Dean?

 “Yes, sacrifices are always made”, Dean says suddenly. “I’d be a fool thinking that there weren’t going to be any consequences. But how do we  _ get him back _ ?”

 “You still have an angel as a friend, right?” The Prophet sasses him. “He’s brought one person back from hell, right? That’s why you’re” —he motions at Dean— “still here.”

 He turns to Castiel, who in his turn is biting his lower lip and looking into the ground. “But it’s a very heavy duty to put on one human. Angel. You know what I mean.  _ You _ need to be ready to sacrifice yourself, or your soul.”

 “Wait a second”, Meg cuts in. Her tiny figure seems to grow larger and take more space in the small room. “You mean that he has to maybe give up his grace? No. It’s way too powerful to be without.”

 “Meg…” Dean starts.

 “No, Dean!” she says, waving her arms frantically. “You don’t know how much that grace is worth! And you sure as heck do not know how many times it has saved you! To ask him to give up his soul —and therefore his grace— would be like asking you to cut of four of your limbs and laughing at you afterwards! Not only will he lose all his power, but also his life!”

 She takes a pause to breathe before she turns to The Prophet.

 “I’m sorry, but that’s not happening, Kevin”, Meg spews out coldly as she grips onto Castiel’s arm tightly. “I’m not letting Clarence die a slow and painful death just so that we might save someone else.”

 “Meg…” Cas and Dean say in a union, but the demon is already pulling Castiel halfway past the curtain shielding the room and towards the exit of the diner.

 “But Meg, it’s Sam!” Castiel blurts, trying to fight himself out of her grip. Meg stops without warning, causing him to crash into her. Her face is brooding with anger.

 “Clarence, I don’t care if it’s the king of Hell you need to save. You’re. Not. Getting. Sacrificed.”

 Cas looks at his partner, the way her eyes are watering and how her small mouth is shaped in a frown, and sighs.

 “Okay...”, he nods. “Okay.”

 Inside the small room, Jo throws a quick glance at Dean before starting to follow the couple out. Right as she pulls the curtain to the side and lets the outside light shine in she turns around.

 “I’m sorry”, she whispers.

 Dean, who’s left alone with The Prophet and his mother, is about to start yelling, before the younger boy starts talking.

 “Hey, man, I’m sorry we can’t convince your friends to sacrifice their lives for someone they don’t love as much as you do”, he shrugs.

 Dean doesn’t answer, but turns back to the two other people and walks out the curtain door. Right before he leaves the small room he makes his hand into a fist and punches the dry wall. A loud, petrifying crack is heard, but the two asians sitting deeper inside the room are unsure if it is the wall or Dean’s hand.

 As the old lady gasps at the mortifying sound, the elder Winchester chuckles and exits the closet-like room.

 

**————**

 

 Jo leans against the wall of The Roadhouse, keeping her head turned towards the entrance, waiting for Dean to come. She spies at different hunters through the glass panels of the diner; a couple of girls sitting in one booth, their arms pressed together, leaning over maps and discussing with waving hands, and by the bar; an older man with two sons, saying inaudible things that make Martha, who’s making milkshake behind the counter, blush.

 It’s calming for her to see, to clear her mind of everything. She knows that sooner or later she’ll have to tackle the fact that she’s back without being a zombie —or ‘one of the undead’— and come to the bottom of it.

 The ring of the bell from the door wakes her from her thoughts —which is just as well— and Dean Winchester comes marching out from the Roadhouse. With his left hand he’s carrying the wrist of his right hand, wincing every time it moves slightly out of place.

 “What happened?” Meg asks, nodding towards cradled hand.

 “Think I sprained my wrist”, Dean shrugs nonchalantly just to wince at the pain in his right arm. Jo leans back towards the glass wall behind her and rubs the bridge of her nose.

 “How do you succeed, Dean Winchester?” the blonde sighs.

 “I don’t know”, he says, smiling like a goof —as if the anger building up inside of him wasn’t happening. “I just do.”

 The two smile at each other for a moment, until Cas and Meg come between.

 “Let’s take care of your wrist?” Cas asks, reaching out to take Dean’s hand. The Winchester just shakes his head.

 “No”, he says under his breath, but loud enough for his closest friend to hear, “I deserved this one.”

 Meg and Jo exchange worried looks, but Meg mouths to the blonde to ‘don’t worry about it’.

 Dean smacks his thigh with his okay hand. 

 “So, Bobby’s?” he asks. Meg and Cas nod and make their way to one of the parked cars —it’s not the Impala, but a blue Prius— but Jo doesn’t move.

 “Jo, sweetie”, Meg says, turning around. “You’re obviously coming as well.” She pauses to eye the blonde hunter. “Unless you have something better to do.”

 Jo freezes for a few milliseconds before answering. “Sure. Yeah, no, not much you can do when you’re back from the dead. And I’d love to see Bobby again”

 Meg nods approvingly and Dean smiles as he seats himself behind the steering wheel.

 “Oh no you don’t”, Meg exclaims. “My Prius, my rules. I drive!”

 “Meg, you know what? Get laid”, Dean frowns and climbs over the car seats to the back with his bad hand tucked close to his body.

 “I just might”, she smirks and slaps Castiel’s ass, causing the angel to yelp out in surprise. Meg bounces herself into the driver's seat and nods towards the blond hunter, encouraging Jo to take shotgun. Jo does, of course. 

 Castiel does his teleport thing into the backseat next to Dean and whips out a first aid kit to tend to the sprain.

 “Wanna choose some music?” Meg asks Jo, motioning with one arm towards the small stereo on the car’s dashboard.

 “Pick a good station!” Dean exclaims from the back. “Don’t play anything gooey or pop-y.”

 Jo browses through the stations that exist in the area. When she’s scrolled past three classic rock stations she decides on one that’s playing Party In The USA.

 “Jo Harvelle!” Dean says over the music. “I will personally have you plucked like a chicken!”

 She turns around to him just to smile before turning back to crank the volume higher.

 “Screw you, Dean Winchester!” she screams over the loud music.

 Meg presses down the gas pedal and they rush down the roads in a hurry, as if they’re escaping something and right in that moment, it felt like she never had been dead.

 

**————**

 

 The car ride is not too long. Sioux Falls always seems to be further away than it is, no matter where you are in South Dakota. You can be just in the neighbour city and it’ll feel like an hour long ride. Maybe it is the fault of South Dakota, the state with the most somber and boring landscape but Jo would never admit it to her mother nor Bobby.

 The blue Prius stops outside the familiar junkyard. The domestic smell of motor oil and old cars fills Jo’s lungs when she exits the small car. She has to take a long pause after closing the door because it’s all too much.

 “Jo?” Dean asks sweetly, putting a hand on her shoulder and rubbing it softly. “You okay?”

 “Hm?” she asks, shaking herself awake from the daze she was in. “Oh, sorry, I just... I’m  _ alive _ .”

 “But that’s good, isn’t it?” Dean says, squeezing her shoulder. “Since you’re okay, I mean?”

 “Dean”, she says sharply, gripping onto his hand and digging in her nails. “I  _ remember _ dying. I remember my mom wanting to die with me. I remember being able to feel her chest heaving when I ‘disappeared’” —she did quotation marks in the air—”I am  _ not _ okay. I can’t say I ever will be.”

 Jo bites down on her lower lip to push back her tears. She doesn’t want to cry —she won’t cry. Not now. Not in front of Dean.

 It’s silent for a long while. Cas and Meg have already left the Prius and are halfway through the junkyard, discussing wildly about something. Jo is just about to follow them when Dean finally speaks up.

 “If you ever…” he gulps, “want to talk about it —I mean being dead, or dying— you can… always talk to someone with experience… uh… me.”

 Jo let’s go of the lip that she’s been biting on the past few minutes. She finally looks at Dean through her wet eyes and nods.

 “Thanks, Dean”, she whispers. He nods back and smiles softly; the smile she fell in love with when they first met.

 They stay by the Prius a bit longer, just listening to the others’ breathing. Suddenly, Dean drops his well hand from Jo’s shoulder to her hand, clasping it gently. She looks at it, then at him. One corner of his mouth twerks upwards, but he doesn’t make eye contact with her. They don’t say a word once more.

 “Let’s go say hi to Bobby, alright?” he says after another while. “I betcha he’ll be over the moon to see you.”

 Jo laughs.

 “Because Bobby is the type of person who gets over the moon when happy”, she says. “I’ll bet real money on that he can’t get happy enough to jump over a cow.”

 Dean responds with a laugh.

 “I can’t say I’m a literate genius, but I’m pretty sure you said at least three things wrong in that sentence”, he says and pushes her with his elbow. Like a magnet she retracts to him, their hands still intertwined.

 In sync, they walk across the junkyard —they walk past the Impala, greet her and Dean asks if Bobby is treating her alright. To their demise, the car doesn’t respond— to the ruckle Bobby calls a house. Cas and Meg are standing by the doorway, still in their heated argument.

 As soon as they see Dean and Jo they stop, turning to the ‘friends’.

 “Jo, if you’ll do the honours…” Meg starts, but Jo has already opened the front door.

 “Hey, uncle Bobby, what’s happening?” she asks, throwing on her best street accent. Footsteps are heard and suddenly a bearded figure appears right in front of her.

 Jo and Bobby stare at each other for a long while. He looks older than before and his wheelchair is gone. His eyes are more tired, sadder, as if seeing her is the worst possible thing that could happen. He is the first of them to say something.

 “Please tell me this is a dream”, he whispers as he reaches to his back pocket. Just as the silver gun comes into view, Dean steps into the room.

 “Woah, okay Bobby calm down please”, the Winchester says, holding up his hands. “Don’t worry. She’s with us. She’s alive.”

 Bobby’s eyes wander from Dean to Jo, then back to Dean and back to Jo before putting his gun back in the lining of his pants.

 “Dear child”, he says and opens his arms. “I’m so sorry.”

 Jo doesn’t respond. She just embraces the old man and nuzzels her face into the soft spot between his collarbone and neck. When they finally pull away from each other —which could’ve been after many minutes but still felt too short— he takes a look at her, makes sure she’s intact.

 “How?” is his first reaction. She understands.

 “I… We don’t know”, Castiel says from behind Jo. “But her soul is vivid, so she’s not a zombie.”

 Bobby rolls his eyes.

 “Thank you, Cas, because I could clearly not see that”, he mutters. Jo laughs at the silly old man, but doesn’t say a word —doesn’t know what words to say.

 “I’ve missed you”, slips out from her mouth. She doesn’t know if it is true, she’s only been alive and conscious for a few hours and so far she’s been so preoccupied with the zombie apocalypse and The Prophet. But she knows she means them as soon as they’ve been spoken.

 “Not as much as I’ve missed you”, Bobby says. It would usually be a playful sentence, but that sort of thing changes when you come back from the dead. Then he turns to Dean and Cas.

 “Where did you find her?” he asks.

 “At The Roadhouse?” Dean says, scratching the back of his head with the hand that’s still well. “No idea where she was before.”

 “Well  _ she _ ”, Jo says coldly, “is right here and can tell you that she just  _ appeared _ outside The Roadhouse a few hours ago. No idea of what happened before that. Feels like I’ve been sleeping since… well… that.”

 Suddenly Meg comes up from behind Jo and pats her on the back.

 “Don’t worry, sweet cheeks”,  the brunette demon laughs, her usually hard and mean face cracking up with cold humor. “We don’t need to brood too much on the things that we don’t know the answer to.”

 “Wow, Meg”, Dean laughs. “I never thought of you as the poetic type of girl.” Meg scoffs and flips her shoulder long hair.

 “Don’t get too used to it, Winchester.” She punches his shoulder playfully and they laugh. “This is like the first and last time it’ll ever happen.”

 Dean shrugs and Meg chuckles once more. The chemistry between them is electric, but not in the same way Meg and Cas have a chemistry. It’s a friendly, playful chemistry that is so different from when they first met —the hatred is gone and now it’s just pure and strong friendship; Jo contemplates that they probably get along so well for Castiel’s sake— and it’s hard to believe that they were sworn enemies once upon a time.

 “Maybe we should tell Bobby about what we got to know at The Roadhouse”, Cas says suddenly and the setting becomes serious at once.

 “Yes, I’d appreciate that”, Bobby says as he leads them to the messy sitting area. Jo lifts some books away so that she can seat herself onto the old, red couch.

 The others seat themselves around the room; Dean seats himself against one of the armrests on Jo’s sofa, Castiel leans against the full dinner table with his arms around Meg’s arms and Bobby pulls out a chair.

 Dean starts recapping the story from when they met Jo to leaving the diner, but leaves out all the details, so that Meg and Jo are forced to butt in and correct him on certain points. He leaves out the part of the soul being sacrificed and how The Prophet could see without eyes.

 “Bobby”, Dean adds, “you didn’t say that The Prophet was a frickin’  _ kid _ . I was shocked when I saw him.”

 “Dean, I had as much of an idea of him as you did”, the old man says, shrugging solemnly. “Such a terrible thing to require from a young boy. A shame. I hate seein’ a young life to to waste.”

 “Uncle Bobby”, Jo chuckles. “Half of us here were raised to be hunters, you know.”

 “I never said I was for it!” Bobby snapped at her, which seemed to put her into place.

 “And also every life goes to waste in Armageddon”, Meg butts in quickly. Dean bursts his arms open.

 “I thought you promised that we wouldn’t see anything more of poetic Meg!” he exclaims and laughs. In return, Meg gives him the finger.

 “Kids, focus now!” Bobby says. “We don’t have time for fooling around! Priority number one right now is to get Sam back and we ain’t got time for playin’ games!”

 Dean and Meg straighten their backs and the short demon clears her throat. They nod, understanding.

 “Now, you were saying that Cas can get Sam out?” Bobby asks. In an instant, Meg leaves the neutral look on her face, her mood returning to the full-on rage she had had in the back of The Roadhouse.

 “Not without having to sacrifice his soul!” she says loudly, untangling herself from her partner's’ arms. “I’m not letting him do that!”

 “Meg…” Castiel says. “That’s not something you can decide on. It’s not your choice or decision on what  _ I _ should do with  _ my _ soul.”

 Meg turns to her boyfriend, the tears that are gathering the corners of her eyes threatening to roll down her cheeks. “Why can’t it be?!” she screams, tears forming in her eyes. “Why can’t I get a say in whether you are safe or not?! Because that’s all I want, Clarence! I want you to be safe!”

 The room falls silent and Cas reaches out his hand to squeeze Meg’s shoulder. She swats it away.

 “It’s Sam, Meg”, the angel finally says. “If anything, I need to try.”

 With tears streaming down her face, Meg walks hastily out of the room. Cas follows her seconds later.

 

**————**

 

 Jo seats herself on the sink counter in Bobby’s kitchen and sighs. Dean leans against the same counter and imitates her sigh.

 “I really miss him, Jo”, Dean says in a mere whisper. “I want him to come back. And I think Cas wants that too.”

 Jo doesn’t know how to respond, so she just nods her head, understanding.

 “Do you think that Cas will go against Meg?” Dean asks, and the blonde huntress can hear a little high-pitched hope in his voice.

 “I think Cas knows what’s the right thing to do”, she replies in a small, worried voice.

 “Do you know what the ‘right thing to do’ is?” The elder Winchester moves so that he’s standing right in front of Jo, facing her.

 “I very seldom do, Winchester”, she smirks and he presses himself closer to her. She scooches as far out she can get without falling of the counter and her heart is beating rapidly. He puts his hands around her cheeks, cupping them carefully. Her arms automatically wrap themselves around his waist. 

 During the finite time of this exchange, they don’t break eye contact nor blink. With his large and calloused hands, he softly tilts her head so that their noses won’t bump into each other.

 Jo’s breath is ragged and she doesn’t understand why; they’re just holding each other —holding each other the way she’d hoped they would do when she had been alive— and sharing the same breath over and over.

 Dean is just about to close the last centimeters of distance when Bobby rushes in through the kitchen door. Fast as lightning, the two hunters separate themselves from each other.

 “What’s up, Bobby?” Dean asks.

 The hunter's face is flushed with anger.

 “It’s Castiel”, he says in a deadpan voice with his back straight and his shoulders squared. “He’s…” —Bobby sighs— ”Just come with me.”

 The two younger hunters look at each other and then at Bobby, but he has already left the kitchen.

 “Can I take a rain-check on that kiss?” Dean asks in a whisper. 

 Jo doesn’t reply much. Just a short ‘mhm’ before she is off the counter and going to check on their celestial friend.

 

**————**

 Castiel is laying on his back in Bobby’s junkyard, his face tilted towards the bright blue sky and his eyes softly shut. He looks peaceful laying there, and Dean would think nothing of it if it weren’t for the huge pair of wings burned into the ground.

 He takes a few leaps before landing on his knees right beside his bewinged friend.

 “Cas?” he asks softly. “Cas, what is… Are you okay?” 

 He doesn’t know if he expects a reply. He  _ wants _ a reply. He wants Castiel to open his blue eyes and give him that anxious smile. He wants Cas to say something along the lines of “I don’t understand why you’re looking at me like that” and laugh. He wants Cas to stand up and brush off the dust on his trench coat and ignore the angel wings scorched into the ground. Castiel doesn’t reply. He keeps facing the sky —Heaven, maybe— with his eyes and mouth shut.

 “Cas. Cas, please answer me”, Dean’s voice is now breaking and his evergreen eyes are watering. A soft hand is on his shoulder. He looks up at Jo through teary eyes.

 “Why won’t he answer me?” he asks her. Before she can reply —before she can tell him that his friend is gone— a loud and heartbreaking cry is heard.

 At the entrance to Bobby’s house a small ball is curled up and leaning against the door frame. Meg doesn’t show her face, but her entire body is shaking. They know she’s crying. Bobby is standing beside her, looking at her. It’s clear he doesn’t know what to do.

 “Hey, Meg, in this line of work…”, he starts, but she doesn’t let him finish.

 “SHUT UP!” she screams. “SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!”

 Bobby shuts up and squares his shoulders.

 “You can’t tell me anything about ‘this line of work’ that I don’t know!” Meg wails. She let’s go of her legs and stands up, shaking. Her face, neck and cleavage have salty trails of where her tears have been running —where her tears are still running.

 “You can’t say anything that will justify this”, she says, her voice more quiet now. She stumbles forward and lays herself down next to Castiel’s body. Her small hands cradle is stubbled face as she quietly sobs.

 “Clarence”, she whispers through her tears, “you did this to yourself. You were to stubborn to realize that this would kill you.”

 Dean looks at Meg laying next to her dead lover and his heart breaks —both because of the loss of his friend and Megs’ loss of her boyfriend. Jo looks at Meg and she sees herself, how heartbroken she was, when Dean died. Bobby looks at the entire company and sees a group of kids that are too young to feel this kind of loss.

 “Sam wasn’t worth it.” Megs’ voice is loud and clear. She makes sure everyone in the junkyard hear her.

 “No”, a not-too-familiar voice says. “I suppose not. But then again, we can’t all have whatever we want however we want it.”

 The group of friends —and family— turn around to see a tall shadow lurking behind Bobby’s house. The owner of the voice steps into the dim sunlight and. And they all recognize him.

 The first one to come over the initial shock is Bobby.

 “Sam?” he asks, his voice almost shaking. He looks like he’s about to fall apart. After all the shit Bobby had been through today —Jo coming back to life, Castiel dying and now Sam coming back from hell— he deserved at least that much. 

 “I believe that’s me”, Sam says, shrugging. Dean opens his mouth to say something, but Sam is too fast. “And too bad about Cas. I’m going to miss the guy. Big time.”

 The junkyard is silent for a long while.

 “Big time?” Meg finally says. Her voice gets louder and angrier with every word. “ _ Big time?! _ That’s it? That’s all you have to say about Cas? He is supposed to be your best friend!”

 “Was”, Sam corrects her coldly.

 “I beg your pardon?” Meg asks, her small body fuming with anger.

 “You said he  _ is _ supposed to be my best friend, but he  _ was _ supposed to”, Sam says. “The only thing he is now, is dead.”

 “Sam…” Bobby starts again, but he is  _ once again _ cut off (this time by Dean).

 “Sammy don’t say that”, Dean says coldly. “We’ll find a way to get him back but… You. You’re back now.”

 He stands up to greet his brother with a hug. Dean can feel his eyes watering once more, but this time he bites his lower lip so that the threatening and weakening tears don’t fall. Sam hugs him back; Sam’s muscular arms hold Dean in a strong grip that he has missed.

 “How are you back?” the elder brother asks.

 “Thanks to our guardian angel”, Sam says with a little smile. He looks at Cas’ dead body, the scorched ground and Meg, who’s protectively half-draped over the angel, still trying to wake him up even if it’s destined to fail.

 “What?” Dean asks and pulls away from his brothers safe embrace.

 “He pulled me out of Hell, just as he pulled you out”, Sam explains with his left eyebrow arched and his arms crossed. “That’s kind of obvious, is it not? Thought you’d get it.” He shrugs.

 He turns to Bobby and smiles. Wraps him up in what looks like a warm hug and Bobby sighs. They share few words, but they don’t need more. When they separate, Bobby feels like he really needs to take vacation from all this coming back to life drama. According to the news, Hawaii is rather unaffected by Armageddon.

 Then Sam finally looks at Jo, whom, in her turn, is still staring at him in awe and confusion.

 “Jo!” he exclaims and opens his bigs arms for her. “You’re looking great. Very alive.”

 Jo throws a look at Dean, but he looks just as confused as she feels, which is not much of a help.

 “Thanks, Sam”, she says and hugs him awkwardly. “I feel very alive. You look and feel alive as well.” He chuckles.

 “I think I am”, he says.

 A scream is once again heard. Meg is standing up now, her face is red with anger and her eyes are a matching colour. Her hands are clenched together tightly to form small but, most likely, dangerous fists.

 “This is so typical for Winchesters!” she yells. “A person we all love has just left us and you’re standing around like it’s nothing! Like it happens every day!”

 “This does happen much too often, kiddo”, Bobby says sadly.

 “Bobby is right, Meg. We have to focus on the living”, Sam says, but in contrast to Bobby, he sounds apathic. Like he couldn’t care less. “And, unfortunately, Cas isn’t.”

 “Stop. Saying. That.” Meg is furious now, her eyes going completely black. “It’s your fault that he’s gone!” She turns to Dean. “Yours too! If it weren’t for Dean Fucking Winchester needing his brother the same way a normal fucking human needs to pee or eat, the only person I ever loved would still be alive.”

 “Meg…” Dean says. “Castiel chose to do it. No one forced him. He was ready to take the risk. And he did… Not for me, not for Sam, but for us all.”

 “Sure!” Meg yells at the top of her lungs. “Blame it on the dead angel! Blame it on anyone but the people who are at fault!”

 Her head snaps in a ninety degree angle and she stares Sam down. He braces himself, as does she.

 “And don’t think I can’t notice what else Castiel had to sacrifice for you to come back”, she spits. 

 The next second Sam has taken a few steps to close the distance between them. A surprised gasp escapes Megs’ mouth and her eyes look human for a millisecond, before her face lights up, making her almost look angelic.

 The demon slumps against Sam, but he takes a step back so that her limp, dead body can fall to the ground with ease. She lands as a half-curled ball right by Castiel’s feet.

 “Sam… What the…?” Dean starts, but he has no clue of how he should end that sentence.

 “She was getting to rouge. We can’t have a rouge, sex-craving demon on our hands as well as a zombie”, Sam mumbles.

 Bobby, unlike the younger two hunters, didn’t mind the last few words. Instead he said something about how he was going to get some fuel so they could burn the bodies (they can’t have the two corpses of their biblical friends attracting  _ visitors _ ).

 “Wait”, Dean says as soon as Bobby has left them. “How did you know about the zombies?” he asks his brother.

 “Zombie _ s _ ?” Sam wrinkles his forehead. “As in plural? Ah shit, I knew something was going to backlash on me. Damn spells.”

 “What?” the two blonde hunters say in a union.

 Sam sighs and sits himself down on the hard and dusty ground, making sure to avoid Meg’s lifeless body. He motions for the other two to sit as well. 

 “This might take a while”, he tells them. “Well, to explain it fully I need to go way far back. At least a couple of years, right after we’d gotten to know Joanna, here.

 “Dean you mentioned to me at some point that you liked her, but of course you were much younger then and I don’t know if it’s still applies, but at any rate. Last year, I realized it was my destiny to sacrifice myself for the sake of the world. But in doing so, I’d have to leave you with no one with some biblical creatures that I, for one, don’t trust. So, before I open the gate to hell, I dig through tons and tons of books about how to bring people back from the dead. I find a spell, a small enchantment where you think about the person in question before burning up a chickenbone. I guess something might have backlashed. Maybe I thought about my duty to save everyone on this planet while bringing back Jo to life, so I… Messed that up.”

 “Messed that up?!” Jo exclaims. “We have an entire zombie apocalypse on our hands because you wanted your brother to have someone to bone!”

 “And wait,  _ you _ brought Jo back to life?!” Dean says. “You’ve been gone for half a year! I met her just earlier today! She doesn’t remember anything but, y’know , dying.”

 “Ah, yes but that’s where you’re wrong”, Sam says, obviously excited, but for all the wrong reasons. “Jo can only remember up to two or three weeks at a time, before her mind resets. Come on, Dean. You’ve been living with zombies for six months, apparently. You must know that their memories reset!”

 Dean stares at his brother, the look in his eyes a mixture between disgust and awe.

 “That doesn’t explain why she doesn’t look rotten and dead while the rest do”, Dean retorts, even though both him and Jo know it’s to no avail. They both know that soon they’ll have to realize, at the end of the roads, that she is one of the undead.

 “She’s the first specimen, of course”, Sam says. “The power is probably weaker and mostly half-assed by now —imagine having to revive every dead human and restore it, it would take a lot of power— but that doesn’t mean that she isn’t one of them.”

 “How do we know you’re not lying”, Jo asks.

 “You don’t”, Sam shrugs. The next second, his left wrist is sliced up and fresh, human blood pours out of his veins. Jo freezes just as her stomach makes a growling noise.

 “How long has it been since you last ate, Joanna?” Sam asks mockingly. “Or are you above that? Are you too good for human blood? Not hungry enough, maybe?”

 He laughs coldly.

 “You can pretend you’re not anything like the others, but when it comes down to blood, you’re just an animal.”

 Jo growls together with her stomach. She sees that Sam continues talking, she can see his slim and annoying lips move but she can’t make out any sound over the sound of the blood gushing onto the ground. Cups of blood gone to waste. Cups of blood that she could have had.

 She takes a look at Dean and his face almost stops her. His bright green eyes are pleading her to stay human.

 Jo hears her own voice in the middle of the pouring and gushing of blood. Two simple words that drowns out all the other noises for a mere couple of seconds.

 “I’m sorry.”

 Just as those words have been uttered by her, she dives for Sam’s wrist. Just as Jo’s lips are about to taste what smells so bitter and sweet at the same time, something is pierced right through her chest. A blunt object that has forced itself through her clothes, skin, flesh and bones. 

 The pain isn’t as much as the shock. She stumbles backwards and lands on the ground. She can make out Sam’s cold voice through the haze of her brain and the ongoing sound of blood pouring.

 “Any last words to the abomination?” Sam asks his brother as Dean cradles Jo’s body.

 Dean just stares at her, instead of attempting to say something.

 “Did you really use to like me?” Jo croaks, her voice and lungs useless at this point. Dean looks shocked at the question, as if they shouldn’t address past-and-present feelings right this moment.

 “Y-yeah?” Dean says, his voice weak as well.

 “Idiot”, Jo says. Then she feels her body slowly go limp. She closes her eyes and waits for the final blow that will separate her head from her body.

 Right as the  _ woosh _ of Sam’s blade is heard, Dean screams  _ wait! _ as if it’ll stop anything. As if it won’t change the fact that the only woman he ever loved just was beheaded while he was holding her. As if the end of his world wasn’t right now.

 

**————**

 

Dean looks at Sam, horror and disgust filling up all his senses and anger clouding his mind.

 “Come on,” Sam says, “we should get going before Bobby comes back out.”

 Dean shakes his head. He doesn’t want to leave Jo, Meg and Cas.

 “Dean, I’m serious. Don’t try to be the better man, because  _ you’re not _ .”

 Dean shakes his head again.

 “Dude, I’m your brother. I’m family. Just come with me.”

 “Jo, Meg and Cas are —were— my family. You’re a monster.”

 And with those words, he stands up to get Bobby from the house.

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for the supernatural dystopia bang on tumblr and livejournal.  
> art by 2blueshoes


End file.
